


Yeah, she's a Cherry Blossom

by tobinlaughing



Category: Firefly, Joss Whedon - Fandom, Serenity
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, F/M, Headcanon, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobinlaughing/pseuds/tobinlaughing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inara and Book have more of a history than they let on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yeah, she's a Cherry Blossom

She has steeled herself to enter the cargo bay. Extra time was taken with her hair, her makeup, her jewelry, her dress--although a case of last-minute jitters convinced her to wear the flowered wrap around her shoulders. Her hair is perfect. Her makeup is perfect. Her shuttle--although no one will see it--has been tidied and put back in order after her last Client, and Inara feels now she is prepared for the inevitable meeting with the unpredictable Captain.

She stops by the bridge to wish Wash a good day first; his smiles for her are always genuine, and Inara can honestly say that the pilot is probably her favorite person on this ship. Their relationship is uncomplicated and pleasant: neither feels the need to hide their frustrations or joys from the other, and they can simply be in one another's company. Another boon, before having to face the Captain: Kaylee is the first person she sees in the cargo bay. Kaylee complicates herself in that she feels the need to make Mal smile, and as that is such a difficult task at times, she works harder at being cheerful than, perhaps, she needs to. Still, Kaylee's smile is a balm to her jangling nerves, and Inara wills herself to accept the spreading quiet--

"The ambassador graces us with her presence!"

Mal's voice does not always grate on her ears, but today it rings falsely hollow. He is putting on a show for his new passengers, and for his sake, Inara plays along. "Hello, Mal," she smiles, as though she is genuinely pleased to see him. He does not want any of the new passengers to suspect a single thing is amiss. He wants them to see Inara, sigh after her, then forget that she's on board. He is radiating supressed nervous energy, and it would be truly shocking if none of the newcomers noticed something was amiss. "I see we have some new faces," she continues, then stops, because the face on the landing of the stairs is not new, is not new at all, and she most certainly didn't expect to find that face here.

Mental fingers grasp the image she conjures of a flat, plain white cotton sheet: her mental anchor of calm. The sheet is unstained, unsullied, unwrinkled, and flawless--and drapes over her thoughts, her roiling emotions, her twisting guts, because no one should ever see that. Inara is a Companion. She is unflappable. She is calm. She is not going to lose her shit in front of this man.

"Inara, this is Shepherd Book--"

He was not a Shepherd last time they met. She wasn't technically a Companion, yet, either, but she was closer to the truth than he must be. Book--he kept the name. There couldn't be a surfeit of Derrial Books in the 'verse, could there?

"I must say, this is the first time we've had a preacher on board," Inara manages, convincing her lips to curve into a smile. Underneath the cotton she screams in frustration, and a ripple blows across her white sheet and she stills it, holding out one hand. Mal's motives are no longer so noble: he is trying to make her uncomfortable. He is trying, moreover, to make Book uncomfortable. He's trying to rattle the man's own facade of calm, because if there is one thing Mal mistrusts more than a woman, it's man of God. And then it hits her--Mal thinks he's a Shepherd.

Blessings be upon Book, for he plays his part perfectly. He is unrattled. "I was hardly expecting to meet a State Official onboard." He grasps her hand with just the amount of pressure that is proper, and bows to the exact degree demanded. "Ambassador," he says, not meeting her eyes.

Mal laughs. Out loud. Under the sheet, Inara imagines clawing out his eyes. Book straightens, his face expressing the perfect amount of concern. "I'm missing something funny."

"Not so funny, " Kaylee admonishes him, leaning against the railing and trying to shoot daggers from her eyes at the Captain. Unfortunately, coming from Kaylee, the best the expression can manage is to kind of fling fluffy teddy bears at him.

"It's Mal's way of saying--"

"She's a whore, Shepherd," Mal breaks in jovially, the look on his face leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that he is enjoying this to its limit. Inara swaths her desire to stomp on his instep beneath layers and layers of clean, unmarred white cotton. Serene. Cool. But a little pissed off, nonetheless.

"It's ok," she interrupts when Book starts to stammer. "I mostly keep to myself, when I'm not whoring." Inara allows herself some satisfaction as she turns to walk up the stairs: got the last word!

"Dontcha wanna meet the rest of the bunch?" Mal calls after her, ruining her moment. She turns, and allows a ripple to show in her pristine white sheet.

"Why don't you make sure they want to meet me first?" she says, doesn't quite snap, but continues back up towards to bridge and the cool, jewel-toned relief that will be the interior of her shuttle.

Later, she will burn incense and smudge the remainder of the dark thoughts and sexual smells from the shuttle. In her younger days, before her life as a Companion got truly complicated, she might have given in to her frustrations and petty anger and shredded a pillow or broken a figurine from her collection of patron-gifts--but, as she must constantly remind herself, if she did that every time the Captain insulted her, or even just every time he outright called her a whore, Inara's shuttle would be bare of any decorations or comforts at all. Instead, she meditates for a while, breathing in and out the recycled air of _Serenity_ , trying to take comfort in being home, on this ship. Even through the walls of the shuttle its as though Inara can feel Serenity breathing with her, the slow, steady, pulsing roar of her engines pushing them through the airless depths of space, on towards Whitefall. Serenity's engines, so receptive to the love and attention that Kaylee lavishes on them; so eager to respond to Wash's direction, ready to try something new, push some limit, rearrange a few physical laws; _Serenity_ herself, protective and bulky and as warm as a hunk of metal can possibly be....

She indulges in a bath to sponge away the sweat brought on by meditation and her condition, knowing Serenity's cisterns and recycling systems would have been purged and refilled with fresh water while they docked planetside. Her own shuttle's smaller water tanks are also filled, but if her bathwater is recycled back into Serenity's larger tanks, the inevitable remaining taste and feel of recycling will be spread over the larger tank and the water will remain fresher--well, relatively--longer. 

Her stomach gives a delicate rumble, just as the door gives an equally unobtrusive chime. "Chin jin," she calls, expecting Kaylee, or Wash, or even Mal with more sharpened words--but her heart fills with dread and shock as the man known as Book steps into the shuttle, bearing a tray.


End file.
